Seven
by Milli Moi
Summary: We all know the Harry Potter series has a love of the number seven, but as years have passed it has gained a new significance for Hermione


Seven; the number had been prominent in the newly named, Mrs Weasley, for a long time. She had married one of seven children. Spent seven years battling the threat of he who should not be named. She did not know as she laid a second white rose at the foot of the Oak tree about 200 yards from the back door of the Burrow, that she would lay a further five, five who would return to their uncle.

The first white rose, the first which she had laid months before her marriage, even though the true events which lead to its planting had been long since passed.

Picking the browning blooms from their stalks she fondly remembered a sticky, hot-breathed evening in a small creaky bed just below the attic of the rickety Burrow. She remembered with less feeling of joy when camping in the forest she has realised what was happening- or not happening. She remembered her heart hanging in her mouth as she prepared to blurt out those words. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she remembered confiding in her best friend. A tear rolled rapidly down her cheek as she thought of the pain in her stomach, the feeling of floating from conscious to unconscious, the look of pain and apology in Ron's eyes as he sat by her bed in Shell Cottage.

The little thing had been too small to recognise but she had always felt he had been a boy. They named him, Aaron Ronald Weasley, and he was lost on the fifth of March 1997.

The second white rose was planted soon after their marriage, 12 weeks and four days after. She had fallen pregnant on their wedding night, the first time they hadn't used a contraceptive charm since the loss of Aaron. 11 weeks and a day or two later, it happened once more. She had another loss. This time a spell she had learned in a book from Molly, told her this one had been another son, Dean Caspar- named after the forest where his parents had spent so much time. He had left them on the 2nd of January, 2000. There hadn't been long to recover the loss of Dean before she was announcing another pregnancy, she had felt Seth squirming before on the 14th of May of the same year Seth Vervain Weasley also became a white rose at the foot of his Uncle's Oak tree.

She rocked back on her heels, settling on the grass beside her trowel and the newly budding white rose in it's garden centre plastic tub.

The fourth and fifth little roses, planted so close together that their branches had entwined as they grew, they had been the hardest to bear.

It had been 2002 before they tried again. There had been a long and hard case for the Aurors. Ron had been called away many times, and when the job was over he had taken leave. She remembered with a smile telling Harry they were planning a trip to Romania to visit Ron's brother Charlie. It had been Ginny, Harry's then pregnant wife, who had explained her brother's true intentions.

Needless to say another baby was formed. They waited, waited through some horrible morning sickness, mood swings so bad they had once resulted in Ron being tied to the kitchen door before his wife had turned from rage to sobs, releasing her spell only to melt into his arms. In March an observant Mrs Weasley had gasped in delight and hugged her daughter-in-law fiercely when she noticed the beginning of a swelling in her abdomen. She knew that sign well, knew a baby would come soon.

A baby did, and sooner than expected. Ruth, their first daughter, was born very tiny, but formed, a sweet little girl. Ruth Lysandra was born asleep on the 20th of April 2002.

Tears fell to the soil, and were swallowed by the plants. Fred would have made her laugh in these moments- always the joker.

There had been no time to grieve. When she fell pregnant once again she had felt nothing. Nothing but jealousy.

Ginny was close to giving birth to a large and perfect baby boy. For the first time in their years of friendship she had felt jealous of Harry. He had what she wanted, a perfect family. She knew Ron worried, knew he wanted to be a father so much and feared the problem was him.

When she suffered her fifth loss, a young boy Ron named Heath, she had been numb. Numb until his rose joined the other four. She was failing, struggling to carry a child.

In the year that followed she had researched everything she could. She spoke to her mother about the problems they had conceiving her- but she knew her own problems did not lie in conception. She studied every slither of literature on pregnancy between muggle borns and pure bloods but other than ancient texts which insisted such children would be mad and grossly deformed, there was no real evidence.

She traveled to a doctor in London- a muggle born who worked by day as a doctor and by night studied the differences between magic and non magic genetic's.

The only doctor in this field, and there was nothing to find.

In 2004, another loss. A daughter named Aradia on the 11th of December.

But then had come a break through. Soon after came another pregnancy, and by some miracle this one stuck.

The nerves also stuck. She believed carrying on as normal would mean nothing could happen, if she did not love her baby then there would be no loss to suffer. After week thirteen dawned, a surprise was planned. Ron booked an ultrasound scan with the help of her mother. This was the first she had seen of any of her babies.

It was beautiful, magical to hold the hand of her husband and listen intently to the sweet music that was the heartbeat of their baby. There was nothing sweeter until the sonography moved her probe. And a second was heard.

She knew there was only one person to thank for this miracle. If there was a God or a Heaven then this had been the work of Ron's elder brother. Only Fred could have sent twins.

She remembered fondly sitting in their cozy little living room, half burrow and half muggle in design. Ron had settled on their rapidly deflating sofa with his wife between his legs, his dry but soft hands settling on the delicate skin of her stomach. His hands had quickly became a near permanent fixture as soon as her stomach began to grow.

Soon after they learned they were expecting one of each, a boy and girl. The extended Weasley family grew happier with each passing day- Ron even grew to laugh at George's teasing on his little brother finally being able to control his wand.

But there was one more white rose.

A few weeks before their children were due to be born everything was ready. They had a pram with two carry cots, two infant car seats, two beautifully carved cradles. Mrs Weasley had knitted patchwork blankets, one in blues and the other in pinks. Her mum had bought two of the softest you rabbits, both in pastel colours and both waiting at the foot of their respective cradles.

She had been getting really big by that point, unable to see her feet when she looked down. She had a copious amount of stretch marks, red tears in her skin cell layers. Everything was set.

They had a scan a few weeks before the altered due date for the twins. There was only one heart beat.

Arthur Harry was born on the 28th of December. His sister was born screaming in protest. Ron sniffed back tears at the sound of his daughter's cry. More tears were shed at the lack of a second cry.

They had hoped, prayed this was just a medical mistake, that their little boy was alive after all, but he was gone.

They were born at 19:02 pm. Seven.

She didn't know why but a semi-Christian upbringing made decisions for her. She had them christened, Arthur Harry and Rose Monica. They were not just Weasley's, Granger-Weasley became their surname, to honour that their mother hadn't taken a different surname. She didn't know why, but each name had seven letters.

Arthur- Artie- was mourned the longest, and his white rose had bloomed into a small bush with spines grasping from each branch. His tree reached backwards, connecting not with its siblings but with the Oak tree behind. Twins stuck together, they always would.

Just as nine Weasley's had become eight, four had become three.

Rose seemed to cry for her brother relentlessly, her little face was pink for so much of the time, her eyes screwed closed. She was impossible to appease but time passed and healing is a slow process. Very slow, long and never truly ending.

As she sat at the foot of the tree so many years after the first rose had been planted she reminisced of a muggle fairytale. Snow White had seven dwarves around her, seven friends. She smiled as she imagined Fred in the red, yellow and blue dress from the Disney rendition. Fred had seven little angels around him now, his own large family comprised of nieces and nephews.

Fred had been the first to know Ron had feelings for one of his closest friend- knowing before Ron truly clicked himself. In fact when Ron told his brother he likes a friend a teasing Fred had asked if he meant Harry.

Fred was gone now. They had married by his tree back when it was young and still planting its roots in the soil.

She knew her days of having children were now gone, she had a daughter and son, Rose and Hugo, now both at Hogwarts, both Gryffindors. Rose was a chaser on the Quidditch team, Hugo was a better duelling partner. They thrived, the grew and changed in the same way these seven bushes did. They were all unique, all special in ways that her children would have been.

Ron had asked her to marry him- again, for the chance to do it better. She knew it would never be the same, knew they were both older and Ron had gained a considerable beer belly over the years, but there would be one thing different. Seven Weasley's would stand by the tree again, the way they had twenty years ago. The way they would always stay in her heart.

She didn't know why seven, why it was special but it would always be to her, to them, and to all the Weasley family.


End file.
